30 Day OTP Challenge
by brighteyesindarktimes
Summary: Sherlock is there for John when he becomes lost. Day One- Holding Hands
1. Holding Hands

**AN:So, I'm doing an 30 Day OTP challenge thingy. This one is Holding Hands. It kind of got out of hand of how I wanted to write this thing, but whatever right? Johnlock(ish) **

* * *

"John."

I can hear a rustle to my right by the door, grunting I roll to my side, my back facing Sherlock.

"John, get up."

I flop to my back again and sigh.

"Do I have to?"

I could hear Sherlock's soft breathing and the surprising soft fabric of his black coat rub against his trousers.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Sev-

I feel the mattress dip from the weight of Sherlock as he settles by my hip.

"Of course you have to. Don't be an idiot. It doesn't suit you."

Your hands are playing with my sheets. I can feel your fingers ghost by my thigh.

"I thought I am always an idiot?"

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Si-

I watch as Sherlock stands up and moves away from my bed. I sigh inwards. The heat from Sherlock's body is leaving, the chill air rushing back.

"Shower John, you smell."

"And you smell like fresh roses." I mutter.

I can see Sherlock's forehead crinkle in confusion. The watery light barely shows your face for me to see your eyes though. Shame.

"No I don't. I haven't been any where near flowers of any sort."

"I, uh, no Sherlock... nevermind."

Your mouth turns down, confusion still on your face.

"Take a shower, it's almost 9."

I glance at the red LED blocks on the clock.

8:34.

The post-it note next to it reads "9:30" in your scratchy handwriting.

"John we have to leave soon, you can't be late."

Your voice is muffled by the door and towel that covers my head.

"Okay. I'm almost done."

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Fiv-

"I made tea if you want any."

The cab ride is quiet. I stare at the drops of rain water that slides down the window. I can feel your eye's linger on the back of my head. I don't turn around.

It's still lightly raining. Should have brought an umbrella. Too late now, can't just leave.

Well I could. But I won't.

Oh, someone is talking. I can't hear a word they are saying to me. The person moves on. Sorry, I didn't mean to.

One.

Two.

Three.

Fou-

"At least look like you are paying attention John."

Sherlock, right. He came along. Why did he come? They never got on. The first time they met, plates were thrown at his head and dinner had to be cut short.

Another time I said.

Pay attention,right.

I straighten up, my eyes moving from person to person, never staying on one stop too long.

Some of these people I have never seen. Others it's been years.

God this is painful. I just want to go home.

Sherlock. Let's go home please. I can't stand all of their eyes watching me. It's too much. Sherlock please.

A man's voice is louder now. What is he saying? Is he saying Harriet? I told them it's Harry. I know how much you hate the name Harriet.

Always have.

God Watson, calm down. Don't cry. Not now.

One.

Two.

Thre-

"Unclench your fist John. People are staring more now."

People. People right. Sorry.

Was that my name? Everybody turns to me.

Oh, right speech. Hold on, sorry.

I can feel Sherlock walking behind me. Thank you.

I clear my throat. Don't look up Watson, just read the paper. You can do this.

"Harry was my older sister. When we were younger we went everywhere together. But then she grow up, became a teenager while I was still a kid. She became too cool for me. I was upset and confused, why didn't she like me any more? Then, I also got older. Made more friends, even a first girlfriend. I forgot all about how Harry and I don't hang out anymore." That got a few chuckles. Okay, carry on Watson. "When I was deployed to Afghanistan, she was there to say good-bye. By this time she was already quite a drinker, but she had Clara and hopeful she would sober up for her. She loved Clara so much." I finally look up and see Clara giving me a watery smile. " I came back and found out Harry was still drinking and Clara and her split up. We didn't talk much anymore, letters stopped by then. The last time I saw her was a few months ago with Sherlock. It didn't end well. Promises of a later date to meet up. She started to clean up by then. Was clean for a month before..." I shut my eyes and clear my throat again.

One.

Tw-

"It's okay John." Your voice is barely above a whisper but it seems like you are speaking as if we are the only two there.

Let's go Watson.

"It's ironic how she was clean for the first time in a long time and alcohol is still the cause of death for her. Drunk driver hitting her. I jus-"

Tears start to spill over. My breathing is ragged.

On-

"I have you John, it's okay."

I feel your warm hand slide into mind, holding tight.

"I have you John, I have you."


	2. Cuddling Somewhere

"You should rest John; you haven't slept more than 20 minutes at a time all week."

"That's fresh coming from you." John snaps weakly. He yawns as he pours the boiling water into his mug, watching the water turn into a murky brown; the water seeping into the tea bag. "Maybe if you got more sleep then I will.."

"We both know that my sleeping habits have no effect on yours John."

John grunts in reply, pulling out the bag and dropping it into the trash. "I'll just sleep later on tonight okay?"

John watches Sherlock from over the rim of his mug, his gray eyes swiping over his face, taking in everything.

"Are you aware of the time John?"

John blinks, blowing air to slightly cool down his tea. "Um. No, not really to be honest," he takes a small sip before lowing it, " I have no idea to what the time is."

"It's 11:30. At night John, you need rest, not tea."

"Oh."

John's legs give out slightly, the lack of sleep finally registering. He catches himself on the counter with his elbow, his hand still clutching the mug of tea. He looks over to Sherlock, eyes roaming over his neck, shoulder, and chest; everywhere but his face.

"I… yeah, okay. Sleep. I'll sleep now."

John watches Sherlock walk forward, stopping in front of him, his chest brushing against John's with every inhale. Leaning his head, he rests it on Sherlock.

"I'm really tired Sherlock."

Long, slender fingers creep over John's warm hand, prying away the mug still held in his hand.

"I know John." The low, deep rumble of Sherlock's voice vibrates through John.

He shivers.

Sherlock pulls away, heading for his room.

John follows.

But he continues up to his own room, pushing the door; he doesn't bother to close it again. He goes into his cold bed, still dressed in his night clothes from the day before. The dulled down noises of Sherlock moving around his room carries up the stairs. A sense of familiarity. He closes his eyes and waits for sleep.

It doesn't come.

Instead, John hears the soft padding of Sherlock's feet climbing up the stairs. With his back to the door, John can almost feel Sherlock's sharp eyes tracing over the outline of his hidden body. He moves silently forward, the only telling of his presence is the soft cotton of his bottoms rubbing together.

A sudden rush of cold air travels along John's backside as Sherlock lifts the cover and slips in behind him, his warmth overtaking the chill that clings to John's raised skin. John makes no acknowledgment of Sherlock; he just accepts the fact that Sherlock just joined him in bed. His bed.

Sherlock snakes his arm over John's waist, hand resting on his stomach causing John to jerk in surprise. His hand moves back and grips John's hip, pulling him closer until his back is pressed to Sherlock's chest.

"Go to sleep John. It's fine."

"Goodnight Sherlock."

He receives a hum in response.

The last thing John remembers before darkness drags him down is the soft press of Sherlock's lips on his neck.

"Goodnight John," whispered into his skin.


	3. Watching A Movie

"This movie is complete nonsense."

"Oh hush. Everyone says that it's brilliant and you promised to keep your deductions to yourself this time."

"It was one time John. And it was about a bloody horse during the war!"

"Yes, well you still deduced everything about the fictional people's lives!"

Sherlock groans from his left, head thrown back in boredom. "But the idea of dreams within another dream and _living_ there is absurd!"

John snorts as he moves to sit next to Sherlock.

"I mean yes, lucid dreaming can be achieved but to create whole worlds inside multiple dreams?! Ridiculous."

John laughs, "Coming from a man who has a mind palace."

"Don't mock me John. It's fundamental to our work and has been proven to work, thank you very much. Unlike this Hollywood monstrosity."

"Just watch the damn movie Sherlock."

"At least they chose a decent song."

/

"If they can just of a bigger weapon, then why bother with those smaller ones in the first place."

/

"Obviously that man likes the young woman, look at the way his tie is knotted!"

"Sherlock, shut up."

/

"Of course it all ends up with the father and the sin. How dull."

/

Soft, dark curls rub against John's face.

Whispering, "Sherlock?"

All John gets is a sniff and a face full of Sherlock's hair before he drapes himself over John's side.

"I guess I can finish this another time."

John grabs the fleece that hangs over the back of the couch and throws it over the both of them before he finally nods off to sleep.

A soft voice, drifts through John's sleep muddled brain, "Goodnight John."


End file.
